Waffles in California
by chizry
Summary: In response to a challenge. What happens in California doesn't stay in California...it could be a very sticky mess.


**Title: **Waffles in California

**Rating: **R (for language and implied sex scenes)

**Disclaimer:** Alliance Atlantis and CBS will have their characters back unsticky. As for the plot….that's mine.

**A/N: **This was actually an interesting challenge, since it's got a lot of facts in it from past episodes. Except for Sara and Greg coming from California and Grissom telling Sara she needs a personal life. And yes, I do know that the Waffle House is only on the East Coast, but as I've never been in CA long enough to have breakfast…I had to put SOMETHING. In response to the challenge:

1. Grissom tells Sara that she basically needs a personal life.  
2. Using her unused vacation time she goes back to California to  
visit her old friends for a week or two.  
3. What she didn't know was Greg got a week and a half's vacation  
time, and went to California to visit his family.  
4. while there in Cali they run into each other, both decided to  
show each other where they grew up (their personal lives)  
5. Spending most of their time together in Cali, they start to fall  
for each other. (how they attract each other that's up to you)  
6. getting back home trying to keep there romance as hidden as  
possible, there relationship starts to grow.  
7. After a few weeks of keeping there secret a secret, Hodges  
unintentionally walks in on them kissing or something up to you (  
anything except sex)  
8. What's the group's reaction to the hidden romance? What's Nick's?  
(since he is their best friend)How will it end?  
9. Greg/Sara friendship ends Greg/Sara  
10. any rating

--------------------------

Domestic violence cases were never her strong suit. To her, it was bad enough that someone had to die, but for someone the victim loved to commit the crime, that had to be labeled as the worst sin in her book.

This one wasn't any different.

It was the classic one: a mother, a father, a daughter, and a son. A happy true-definition-of-an-American family, right? The one where you could see the shiny white picket fence and smell pancakes ever morning before the yellow school bus arrived. With a brand-new car sitting in the driveway and a dog yapping happily away at the mailman.

Only the inside was as immoral as the outside was perfect.

Sara sighed, banging her head gently on the tinted one-way window of the interrogation room. Captain Jim Brass had just arrested the father of brutally stabbing his wife with a fireplace poker.

Twice.

Did that man even think about what would happen to his children once their mother was dead?

And damnit, she definitely was going to lose sleep on this one.

"How many vacation days do you have on the books?"

The brunette didn't move her head from the glass as she answered her supervisor. "About…ten weeks, I guess. Why?"

Even though she couldn't see Grissom's face, Sara knew he was frowning. "I think you should take a week or two."

She rolled her eyes. The man himself never took a break. "I'm still on a case." Pausing, she added, "When was the last time you took vacation? Never, right?" Her head swiveled to the side so that her brown eyes could meet his.

"Okay."

Thinking she won and a bit surprised she did, Sara scowled when he went on. "I'm making you take a week or two off."

"You can't do that!"

"I can and I will, Sara." Grissom stated firmly despite her death glare. "You've been working too hard." His head nodded towards the suspect being sent to jail. "Besides, your case just finished."

At that moment and to Sara's immense displeasure, their head of department walked up, hearing the whole thing. "Sidle, I'm putting you on for two week's leave. No excuses. I don't want to see you in the lab for fourteen days, or it'll be three days unpaid leave. Good idea, Gil." Ecklie gave a small grin before he walked off to grill some clumsy rookie CSI.

Fuming, Sara turned on her heels towards the locker room and nearly bumped into a very excited Greg. She could've sworn that Grissom had winked at Ecklie.

--------------------------

"Sara! What brings you back to back to Tamales Bay?" Muscular arms enveloped her in a warm hug as she stepped inside a familiar-looking apartment.

"Unused vacation time." She said, laughing as her older brother Mike finally stopped squeezing the breath out of her.

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm hurt. You didn't want to come and see all your old friends?" He feigned mock injury and laughed. "Seriously, visiting more than once every couple of years would be nice."

His sister shrugged, setting down her one suitcase. "Life's always busy in Vegas. Thanks for letting me crash for two weeks."

Mike threw a carefree grin at her. "Anything for my baby sis. So, shall we go see some people?"

--------------------------

"You'll really love this place!" Greg's friend gushed as his group of friends walked into a popular club down in San Francisco.

Greg ran a hand through his blonde-streaked hair. "It's just like any club in Vegas," he protested as the bubbly blonde practically dragged him through the metal doors into the pulsating room. She let go of his arm, sending him sprawling forward. Stumbling to regain his footing, he and a smaller body collided and tumbled to the floor together.

To his absolute shock, he stared at the familiar pretty face that was looking at him from the floor.

"I'm so sorr….Greg?" Her mouth opened in a wide O, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Sara?"

"Oh good, so you two know each other already!" The bubbly blonde exclaimed as she latched herself onto Sara's brother.

Both CSIs just stared at their friends. "Huh?"

Mike gave a knowing grin as Sara and Greg instinctively helped each other up from the floor. "Sara, meet Candy. My girlfriend."

"Unique name." Sara complimented as the blonde gave a 500-watt smile.

"Sounds like a hooker name, if you ask me." Greg ducked before Candy's hand could connect with the back of his head. "And the last time I said that was worth about nine ice packs and a whole hell of a lot of band-aids."

Everyone but Sara laughed, remembering the sight of an apoplectic girl whacking a not-so-apologetic Greg over the head with a 10-pound Doones & Burke bag.

"It hurt a lot too," he complained, subconsciously rubbing where he had bruising for a week.

"Aw, did I hurt the wittle baby?" Candy teased playfully. "Poor Greggo can't stand a wittle bruisin'."

Before Greg could properly flick her off and have his ass kicked, his friend Brandon stepped in. "Who wants drinks?"

--------------------------

A few hours later and many drinks, the streetlights in front of the club watched lazily as Sara and Greg attempted to stuff the thankfully passed-out couple into the back of Mike's Hummer.

"That…is….the…last time….Mike…ever….gets….drunk," Sara grunted as she slammed the back door to the car after successfully cramming her brother into the backseat with his girlfriend. "Need a ride?" She asked, pulling open the driver's door.

"Yeah. We rode the bus here." Greg jumped into the passenger seat and the brunette started up the engine.

"Where does Candy live?"

He rattled off an address, and Sara glanced at him in astonishment. "What?"

"That's my brother's house."

"Oooh, two birds with one stone. I'm all for it."

"But I can't stay there!" She cried adamantly. "It's a major invasion of privacy. Not that I mind, but I'm pretty sure Candy is gonna mind." Carefully steering the Hummer onto the highway

Greg shrugged. "Crash at my place then."

Her face was fixed with a look of apprehension. "I can't do that either."

"Either that or you listen to your brother and Candy going at it like rabbits every night." He commented cheekily, knowing her reaction.

She pulled a face and elbowed him hard in the ribs. "I did NOT need to know that, Sanders."

Wincing, he rubbed his side tenderly. "Ouch, Sar. That hurt. You have a mean poke." He gave a pout, eliciting a rare smile from her. "But really."

He saw her shoulders sag, knowing he won the battle. "Better than hearing your own brother go at it. But I still need to get my suitcase. It'll only take a minute."

"What, no packing?"

Pulling up into an open parking lot space, Sara turned off the ignition. Scoffing, she replied, "Would you have time to unpack if somebody dragged you somewhere no later than 5 minutes after you've arrived? Besides, I didn't have any place to put my stuff."

"All the more reason why you're staying at mine."

"Enough chattin', help me drag my fat load of a brother into the elevator."

Somehow, the two of them managed to have tucked both Mike and Candy into bed without them enduring any serious injuries ("She might have a bruise later, but she won't notice." Greg had appeased a horrified Sara after she had accidentally bumped Candy's head to the doorframe.) And managed to get all of Sara's stuff on top of that in under an hour.

"Driving in your pjs?"

"Got a problem with that?"

"No. But why'd you even change?"

"'Cause I expected to stay there and had it all laid out. Besides, they're comfy."

"Whatever floats your boat." He dragged her luggage toward the back. "What do you have in here, Sara? All the crime lab's equipment and more?" Greg teased, struggling a bit to get the suitcase into her little car.

The brunette shot him a partly annoyed look. "Very funny. I just brought my favorite forensic journal mags, that's all."

Her friend quirked an eyebrow. "A vacation and all you wanna do is read? C'mon, where's the real vacation?"

He regretted the moment those words left his mouth.

A frown graced her lips. "That's it. My brother's pretty much the only friend and family I got out here." Her voice was unmistakably saddened, even though her face was as impassive as a statue.

Greg didn't know what to say, so he just nodded. "Sorry."

Thick silence settled in the car, he uncomfortable and her deep in thought. Neither of them looked at each other until Greg finally had to point out their way to his apartment building.

"Right there."

Looking up, Sara was quite astonished at how high-end the place looked for just a CSI level one. And granted, even her job didn't pay that well and she had seniority over him.

"Wow." Upon going through the spacious lobby, well-lit hallways, and ('holy crap, how many times did they shine these walls' ran through her mind) elevator, she entered his home only to find that it was nothing short of what she already saw.

"Like?"

"I didn't know you lived in a place like this, let alone even had a second apartment."

Grinning sheepishly, Greg shrugged. "My family's well off. Grandpa Olaf had quite a bit of money."

Placing her suitcase down gently on the plush carpet, she turned and looked at him. "I'll take the couch."

He shook his head. "Nu-uh. Ladies get the bed. Pretty ladies get to have all but one pillow," Greg added cheekily.

He knew Sara wasn't going to give up so easily and look like…well, a _girl_, and he was right.

"Greg Sanders, I'm taking the couch and that's final. You've already done enough LETTING me stay he in the first place." To further prove her point she plopped herself among the matching velvet couch cushions. Her arms were crossed in what Greg amusedly knew she thought to be a threatening pose.

In no later than two seconds he had swooped her up in his arms (much to her surprise…when did he get so strong?) and carried her to his bed where she was instantly surrounded by fluffy orange pillows.

"GREG!"

A classic Greg smirk crossed his face. Before he could say anything, though, a pair of hands grabbed him and he landed next to her.

"If I'm sleeping in this bed, you are too." Seeing the mischievous look in his eyes, Sara rolled her eyes. "See this imaginary line? You stay on that side," she pointed. "And I stay here. No crossing."

"Or what?"

"I've got my gun."

"Very good point."

"Good night, Greg."

"What, no goodnight kiss?"

"Good night, Greg."

He could tell she was grinning.

--------------------------

Sunlight streamed through the window, making criss-cross patterns across the bedspread. Blinking her eyes drowsily, she found that whatever her hand had bonked wasn't her alarm clock, but instead what turned out to be some weird-looking bust of Beethoven wearing sequined sunglasses.

She muttered an expletive as the stone made a bruise on the palm of her hand.

That's when she noticed her other hand was being pleasantly crushed by a warm body. Intertwined legs didn't help either.

And judging by the messy hair, that warm body belonged to Greg.

Shit.

"Uh...Sara?" A finger poked rather gently into her side, and she squealed, tumbling off the bed and bringing Greg and the covers down with her.

"Ow!"

"Not a morning person, are you?" Greg grimaced, rubbing his sore behind.

Glaring, Sara disentangled herself from the mass of blankets and tried to fix her appearance, only to look more bedraggled.

"You should know I'm ticklish," she frowned as she headed to the bathroom for a shower.

"Forgot. What are you doing?"

Rolling her eyes, she picked out her clothes and a fluffy towel. "A shower. Don't worry, I brought my own shampoo and soap."

He shrugged. "I don't care. What do you want for breakfast?"

"I didn't know you could cook," she said in surprise.

"I don't. Let me rephrase that: what do you want for breakfast so I can take us somewhere?"

She laughed. "Just like you. Takeout. But waffles sound good."

"Waffle House down the street."

An hour later, Greg and Sara had walked down the street to the small restaurant. They were instantly greeted by the traditional "Hello! Welcome to the Waffle House!" and seated.

"It's on me, Sara. Pick anything."

"No, I'm paying for mine. You've done enough already and it hasn't even been a day."

"I invite a lady out, I pay."

She unsuccessfully smothered her grin, but argued nonetheless. "I don't think so." Looking around the comfy booth, she asked, "Do you come here often?"

"Every time I visit home. I'm like a non-regular regular. I'd recommend the MVP special with the orange juice," He offered, seeing her face of indecision.

"Sounds good to me," Sara read the description in interest. "Mmm. Waffles, eggs, hash browns, bacon, AND toast."

A elderly woman came over to take their order. "What would you like, dears?"

"Two MVP specials. With the orange juice."

"Alright. Anythin' else I can do for you?" The waitress smiled motherly down on the two of them, her name tag reading Dorothy.

"Nothing else, thank you."

Dorothy nodded. "You two look perfect together, by the way." With a last knowing smile, she left to fill their order, noticing that they didn't really deny it.

"I'll be back." Plopping down her purse, a furiously blushing Sara made a quick getaway to the restrooms.

Their waitress came by as soon as Sara disappeared from sight. "Here's the bill, dearie. You can pay now so she can't steal it from you," she said with a conspirational wink.

If possible, Greg turned even redder. He handed his money over to her wordlessly and received his change.

"Greg!"

His head turned to see Sara standing there with a not-so-unhappy-looking frown on her face. "I told you I wanted to pay for mine!"

"Too late."

"Oh you sneaky little-"

"Here's your breakfast, sweetie," the waitress interjected, setting the tempting food on the table. "If you need anythin' let me know!"

Defeated, Sara plopped back down and began to eat. "Wow. Good wholesome food. Want the bacon?" She laughed as Greg forked them earnestly and dropped them onto his own plate.

A few minutes passed before they said another word. Greg broke the silence. "So, how about we do some touring today?"

"We grew up here, Greg. What makes you think we need a tour around our own home state?"

"No no no, Sara. A personal tour. Like I show you my town and you show me yours."

"Sounds really good to me," Sara smiled. "Yours first."

"After my bacon. A man needs his food."

He looked up, seeing a spot of syrup on her cheek. Using his finger, he wiped it off as she blinked at him in surprise.

One smooth move and her mouth surrounded his finger, licking the sweet confection off. As she sat back in her seat, the pair had identical astonished looks on their faces.

In the background, Dorothy had a knowing smirk on her face.

--------------------------

"-and that concludes the Get-To-Know-Greggo Tour. Any questions?" Greg bowed to Sara's avid clapping after several hours of seeing all the places in his past life.

"I didn't know you played the accordion," she teased. "

"Hey, my grandpa wanted me to play." He indignantly stood up for his ego, but she knew that he had to agree. Back then only dorks played, and now, he could make a safe bet that probably half of the world's kids don't even know what it is. "Until I broke the 4th one."

She laughed. "Nice."

"Not my fault, I swear! The first time, the keys just popped off. The second time, the dog accidentally….used it. The third time, the cat used it as a chew toy. And the fourth time…okay, that was my fault."

"What'd you do?"

He grinned sheepishly. "I sat on it."

Sara laughed even harder. Greg looked at her admiringly, noticing she looked a lot prettier when she was cheerful like this. Cheeks with a slight flush, lips in a graceful upward curve. He just thought she should smile more. A deep yawn brought her to his attention.

"You're tired. How about we go touring your life tomorrow?"

"Okay," the brunette mumbled, leaning her head on the cool glass of the car.

"Waffle House again for breakfast?"

He glanced over at her when he heard no reply. Seeing her fast asleep and snoring softly, he paused briefly before his lips tenderly brushed hers on the cheek. Turning his eyes back to the road, he tried not to think about what he just did.

Her eyes fluttered for the briefest second as a ghost of a peaceful smile appeared.

--------------------------

The next morning came, thankfully without any embarrassing situations much to Sara's relief and Greg's chagrin. Not that he'd ever tell her, but it was actually very nice waking up with her warm body against his.

And much to Sara's apparent unhappiness, Dorothy seemed adamant that they were a destined couple.

However, Sara kept to heart the waitress' words when Greg had went to check out the jukebox: "Your eyes say you're lonely. But you really aren't, you know-I think he really loves you."

Not noticing she had stopped talking about her mother's bed and breakfast, Sara kept turning the words over and over in her head.

"You ok?"

"Oh. Sorry." She hadn't bothered to look at him to reply.

"You didn't answer my question," Greg playfully teased.

"Mmm." Her eyes were still focusing on something far out in the distance, he noticed.

He glanced at her in worry. "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head. "No." A sigh escaped her lips, saying otherwise. He didn't push it, feeling that she'd tell him sooner or later when she felt like it.

Instead, he gingerly wrapped an arm around her shoulders comfortingly as she once again relapsed into thought. Unconsciously, she leaned in towards him and tilted her head onto his shoulder. Taking her hands into his, he gently caressed his fingers across her skin.

They sat that way for a while, occasionally moving but never saying a word.

Only when the first light raindrops came down the silence was broken.

"We better get home." Extending a hand out, he pulled her up from the brick wall they were sitting on.

Sara didn't bother correcting him on the use of "we" and "home" in the same sentence, even though in the back of her mind she felt that it was almost fitting.

Wordlessly, the two of them slid into Greg's car before the sky could open up on them. The long drive to his apartment seemed to stretch into infinity, with nothing but the radio softly playing keeping the silence from returning. Finally reaching the parking lot, Greg pulled it in and got ready to open the door.

Before his hand even reached the door handle, a hand had quickly turned his face to the side to allow something soft to press itself against his mouth.

He didn't know where it came from, but he wasn't going to start complaining now. Alarm bells were blaring in the back of his mind, but he ignored them as his hand snaked up around her waist, closing the gap between their bodies.

Somewhere in between having her fingers teasing the skin underneath his shirt and his under hers, they had miraculously moved from the car into the elevator without being seen.

It was any luck at all that they managed to get into his apartment with almost no trouble at all.

"Bedroom," she muttered against his collarbone in between kisses and licks. In wordless agreement, she hooked her legs around his hips as he half-carried, half-staggered into his room. When there was a brief pause to catch their breath, he noticed that somehow they had ripped each other's clothes off nearly to shreds and that it was only skin on skin now, warm flesh just as willing.

Her hair was splayed out across his pillows, face flushed pink and slick with sweat. What caught his attention, though, was her smile-genuinely happy for the first in a long while. Arms wrapping around his neck, she pulled him in for another agonizing mind-blowing kiss.

Everything after that was a dreamy blur of feeling. Breathing. Loving.

--------------------------

Cinnamon.

The scent of the sweet spice filled her nostrils, and she deeply breathed it in. Dimly aware of a warm presence pressed against her back, she subconsciously snuggled into the affectionate embrace that surrounded her.

Fuck.

She tumbled out of bed in shock, landing with a very loud thump. Her partner shot awake in a flash and peered over the side worriedly.

"Sar! You ok?"

Just then she noticed that both of them weren't wearing anything at all. Grabbing the nearest pillow, she tried to cover herself. "What the FUCK did we do last night?"

Trying to smother a grin, Greg tried to ignore her poor choice of words. "If it makes you feel any better, it seems like it was an intense night."

Groaning, she looked around the room. Not having a headache, Sara had to cross being drunk as one of the reasons of their….adventure, per se.

"What the hell was I thinking?" She mumbled as she reached for a clean pair of underwear.

He frowned. "Well, if 'I love you' was any indication, it seems like we returned sentiments," he grumbled, unhappy that his night of paradise was ending with a not-so-heavenly morning.

Freezing, she stood there in shock, ignoring that she was partly naked at the moment. "I actually said that?"

"Yeah." Greg ran a hand through his mussed-up hair. "Even though you might not actually mean that now," he added a bit mournfully.

A sly smile graced her lips. In two seconds flat she had bowled him over and was now in a very nice position on top of him. "Are you kidding? I never could be more serious in my life," she laughed at his wide eyes. Before he could reply, she silenced his mouth in the most effective way possible.

--------------------------

"Hey Greg, have you seen-oh wow." David Hodges stopped dead in his tracks at the scene before him. Gaping, he stood in shock in the doorway of the locker room.

Two more figures stepped around the trace analyst and gave noises of encouragement.

"About time!" Warrick Brown offered as the red-head by his side gave a thumbs-up.

"Ok guys, where did every-Sara? Greg? What are you two doing?"

The two madly kissing figures looked up at their best friend's voice. Guiltily, Sara straightened her clothes up while Greg just gave a full-blown grin as he removed his hands from under her slightly unbuttoned shirt. Their eyes met the somewhat hurt ones of Nick Stokes.

The Texan cowboy sighed as the couple in question shifted nervously under everyone's gaze.

"How long?"

"Ever since our vacation," Greg answered, knowing Sara wasn't about to speak. He couldn't blame her really, because the normally sunny-dispositional CSI was like her brother and they got along almost perfectly.

"Seven fucking weeks?" The words raised in volume as the rage built up.

"Nick!" Catherine Willows admonished. Seeing Sara tensing up in hurt, she walked over to comfort her.

He glared unreasonably towards the former lab tech. "Seven fucking weeks and nobody told me?"

Warrick exhaled noisily in exasperation. "We didn't know either, man. So lighten up."

In response, Nick turned and headed out the way he came.

Answering a worried look from Catherine and a nervous one from Greg, the dark-skinned CSI nonchalantly waved his best friend's behavior off. "Relax. He'll get over it in a short bit. Meanwhile, congrats." He extended a hand to Greg, who took it warmly.

"Thanks."

Giving a kiss each to the two, Catherine made her exit. "I'm happy for you two," she said proudly, following Warrick.

Hodges nodded and left without a word. Greg could've sworn he was smiling just a little bit. Turning to face his girlfriend, he saw that she was shaking. An arm wrapped around her waist, he pulled her close.

"Don't worry. Nick's just upset that we didn't tell him, that's all," he soothed.

Just then, the said man walked through the door embarrassedly with a triumphant Cath at his heels. "Nicky's got something to say," she smirked.

With a few sharp pokes at his ribs, Nick glanced down at them. "Sorry. I'm happy for y'all. But I wish you would've told me sooner."

"No hard feelings." Greg assured as the older CSI gave him a brotherly hair ruffle.

Sara, however, received a small kiss on the head. "Sorry, Sar. Didn't mean to go all AWOL on you." Nick's crooked grin brought a smile to her face, and she tiptoed a bit to peck him on the cheek.

"All's forgiven."

"Now to the case…" Catherine promptly dragged a begrudgingly Nick back to the investigation room.

Greg turned back to the brunette at his side. "Waffles?" His stomach growled a little at the thought of some good food.

"With lots of syrup."


End file.
